Mesmerized
by Frustration At Its Finest
Summary: Their admiration of each other runs deeper than it seems. Rated M for sexual content.


AN: As always, I do not own Soul Eater, it belongs to Atsushi Okubo. This was inspired entirely by the song Glass and Stone by Tor. It is an incredible song and I recommend that you listen to it while reading(If you enjoy music while reading, that is.) This contains some sexually explicit material. If you are not comfortable with that, please do not continue reading.

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The way she moves during a battle is absolutely mesmerizing. He rarely gets the chance to enjoy the sight, but when he does take a moment to catch a glimpse of her, what he sees is flawless. Smooth, quick movements, the surety of her strikes, the way her face contorts in rage and her hair and coat are always flowing with her, just a step behind. Her eyes glow, from within her a light shines through, she's luminous. These tiny glimpses, fragments of images and bits of her voice, they are engraved within his memory. They make up the only dreams of his that aren't nightmares. He is disturbed with himself that the sight of his partner spattered with their enemy's blood is actually something he finds beautiful. She is a masterpiece before him, and it doesn't matter that he only can see her for nanoseconds.

These images can never be cleansed from his brain. He never wants them to be.

She has all the grace of a dancer, the ferocity of a lioness, the passion of an artist, and anger of someone a thousand times scorned, the determination of a warrior who fights to survive, not thrive. She is the future, and the past, and all that lingers between. She is all the hope of the world consolidated into one tangible being. She _is_, and that means _everything_ to him.

The way he moves when he plays is incredible. He is frightening, hypnotic, beautiful as he hammers away the music from within his soul. She feels his anger, self-doubt, frustration. She senses love, and joy, devotion, admiration, and maybe a hint of lust. His soul glimmers when she looks at it, truly looks at it. He is multifaceted, like an immaculate diamond, somehow scratched and worn from life though being of the most durable material that exists. His shoulders tense, back hunched over his ebony mistress of melodies. The candlelight makes his skin glisten, catching in the droplets of sweat that have seeped out his pores like his emotions have seeped from within the deepest confines of his soul.

He is _mesmerizing_, she can't look away. Wouldn't even if she could. His fingers flutter like the wings of a hummingbird, she can't even process how one could move so fast. He plays with the agony of someone who has suffered terrible loss, the elation of someone who has discovered the meaning of life. He is confident, self-conscious, fearful and fearless as he lays his soul bare in front of her. She wants to tear his suit from his skin, show him how mesmerized she is by him, but she wouldn't dare stop his performance, not for anything.

This is the most intimate thing she has ever known.

When he lays his head down for sleep, slips his eyes shut, he sees a montage of images of her, howling in rage, painted red by her own hand. He sees her dancing her way across their battlefield, never making a false move, always with her eyes on their target. He does not understand how such a thing could give him the rare beautiful dreams he is gifted with, but chooses not to question it. It is her after all. It does not have to make sense, it simply has to _be._

When she lays her head down at night, and her eyes finally flutter closed, she sees a chaotic flurry of movement in front of a piano, feels that rage, and joy, and lust. Hears his fear, and courage, and elation. His warped beauty strikes her at her core, engrains itself within her soul, and she's so glad for it. In these moments, he is everything all at once, complex yet simple. She can see it all so clearly in these moments, the haze of everyone else's presence lifted, and only they remain. Together, they make sense.

The first time they lay themselves down together, they are entirely mesmerized by each other. She can taste his adoration, elation, his passion on his tongue, and he can hear in her symphony of sighs and cries her love, her fear, her comfort and her lust. They reach the crescendo together, a tangled mess of panting lovers, bodies slick with each other's sweat and emotion. They remain connected until it is no longer possible, and their breaths harmonize in their slumber, still wrapped up together, one entity, not two.

Now when they lay down to sleep, and their eyes slide closed, they see the same images they used to cherish, hear the same sounds that have always rung through their heads, but there is additional material now. He sees her heaving chest, her luminous emerald eyes glistening and half lidded, hears her heavy breaths and cries of his name. She feels his voice in his chest run through her where they are connected, sees his wild scarlet eyes staring into hers intently, tastes her name being moaned from his mouth into hers. These are the moments that they see their true beauty, understand how perfectly they fit together. They have those dark dreams less frequently now.

While darkness preys upon _'I'_, it cowers in the face of _'We'._


End file.
